


The Sketchbook

by Rennat



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Korrasami - Freeform, Loose Canon, Romance, Universe Alternate, but not an Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennat/pseuds/Rennat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami has always been curious about Korra, has always wanted to catch a glimpse of the Avatar's inner world that is kept so locked up.  But when Asami tries to sate her curiosity by taking a peek into Korra's sketchbook, it tears a hole in their friendship that Asami is far too hurt to ever mend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sketchbook

The asphalt streets were as never-ending as the polar sun in summer, Korra thought.  The most amazing part was how infested they were with shops and money-mongers.  Literally built around each other, Korra mused.  It was utterly alien to her; pathways at her home led to homes and community centers, warm huts with steam folding out of their chimneys.   Republic city was a different planet; Korra had ever seen such an epicenter of capitalism before.

She was compelled to glance over her shoulder at the bustling street behind her, though for whom or what remained a vague boogeyman in her head.  Chief Beifong, maybe, but the chances of her being on this particular street corner were minimal, Korra knew that.  For all her wariness, she could only see the roaring Satomobiles and the many pedestrians rushing about their business.  She breathed deeply and forged ahead, her eyes set on a small shop up ahead.

It was hard not to break into a run.  She had waited all week for this, training so hard in her airbending Katas that Tenzin, who was used to a Korra who liked to sleep in and take breaks, had to force her stop. It had worked: every last piece of her Watertribe clothes were filthy in time for laundry day.  Pema had graciously lent her the acolyte robe she was wearing now, the orange-red one with the comfortable sash and the long, long sleeves.  She had hardly been able to contain herself as she tried it on, leaving Tenzin utterly baffled.

Now, the smell of paper and linseed oil bombarded the Avatar as she entered through the creaking wooden doors of her destination.  She headed over to a wall full of stretched and gesso-slathered canvas, already stapled expertly to their frames.  She observed them momentarily before turning and admiring a set of brilliantly colored pencils and some charcoal sticks.  Her fingers twitched—from want or anticipation, she didn’t quite know.

 _If only the White Lotus geezers could see me now,_ she mused, a smug grin tempting the sides of her mouth.

Her hand closed around a charcoal stick.

 “Looking for anything in particular, miss acolyte?”

Korra was so startled by the voice next to her that she was mildly surprised that she hadn’t been knocked into the Avatar State.  A store attendant—a tall, handsome young man with the green eyes of the Earth Kingdom—stood smiling at her.  He seemed kind, she thought, and she had to shoo away a twinge of guilt.

“Uhn, just browsing,” she replied.  She was sure her voice quavered, and it was all she could do not to place her hand over her heart, which was clearly trying to break free of her body.

“Of course,” the young man said, beaming widely at her.  “Tell me if you need anything at all.  Always good to meet another artist, I must say.”

Korra wanted to explain to him that she wasn’t an artist, not really, that maybe she would have been had the activity been deemed worthy of her status.  Or perhaps if she had she not lived a life where backbreaking bending and near-constant exercises didn’t rule her everyday existence.  Or perhaps if she had been allowed to lived with her beloved parents…

But she was not here to socialize.

She smiled at him and nodded, and thankfully he turned her back to her, and walked towards the door to greet another customer. 

She had to be fast.  She knew what she’d be looking for when she came here, and she wasn’t leavening without it.  Rapidly, she scanned the store—canvas, gesso, paint, oils, brushes, pencils, clay—ah!  There it was, lying in a neatly-organized display pile—an eleven-by-eight book full of blank, whispery paper, bound in black leather.

She approached it, her heart and mind racing.  She had first glimpsed this particular piece of merchandise when she sped past the shop atop Naga, the metalbending police hot her trail.  She’d seen it for less than a second, but she knew she had to have it.  Behind her, the young man and the other customer were chatting amiably.  She heard one of them giggle, and her heart gave a lurch of excitement.  They weren’t just speaking—they were _flirting._   Their attentions would be completely undivided.

She picked up the sketchbook and turned it once or twice in her hands as though inspecting it.  She wasn’t, of course—she was just trying to act as casual as she hoped she looked.  She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and found her suspicions confirmed--both young men were still flirting shamelessly, their cheeks streaked with pink.

Korra slipped the sketchbook into her sleeve.

She had to remember to breathe as she stared at the vacant spot where the sketchbook had rested among its kin.  Should she rearrange the display?  She wondered frantically.  Would they notice it gone?  Surely they would notice the disruption among the many neatly stacked books?

 _There’s no time!_   The thought jarred her into action.  With the book safely tucked away, she headed for the door from which she had entered.  Past the charcoal sticks, past the colorful pencils and gessoed canvases, and right past the store clerk and his blushing paramour.

 She waited for the cries of “ _Stop right there!”_ Or “ _Thief! Call the Police!”_  

They never came.  She walked right out of the store, past two flirtatious and oblivious young men, with an unpaid sketchbook and a stick of charcoal hidden in the sleeves of her borrowed clothes.

As she exited the store, a ratbird took off from the curb, the inky veins of its feathers glinting in the moist air.  Puddles from last night’s rain were like mirrors on the cobblestones, displaying an upside-down moneymaking metropolis.  Graffiti blared to technicolor life along the buildings she passed, and the sky was gessoed over with the promise of coming shade.

 Textures and patterns sprang to life all around her, warm and ready for the taking.

For the first time since she was a little girl, Korra felt her heart grow wings and soar away.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think! Comments are welcome! 
> 
> Legend of Korra and the Avatar franchise were created by Mike and Bryan and are owned by Nickelodeon. No profit is being made off of this work.


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